Question of Justice
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: Rory Williams is dead, or so the police tell his widow. But with no body, Amy Pond turns to a private investigator known only as the Doctor. As he searches for the truth behind it, he'll unearth a conspiracy threating the law enforcement system- with him becoming the next target. DetectiveAU featuring a ruthless gang, Clara as the loyal secretary, and River Song as the femme fatale
1. Chapter 1

**I've stopped trying to understand why I write the things I write. I suppose this is mostly inspired by a class I've been taking covering detective fiction, so if you've ever read any Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe you should feel right at home. This'll be my first attempt at some kind of human-AU so it should be interesting. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter One**

It had been slow lately. Too slow. Not that he'd ever wish for something unfortunate to happen, but in his line of work that tended to be the prerequisite for action. No one ever bothered with someone like him in times of peace and happiness, after all. It was a bleak observation, but one he had grown used to over time.

"Hey."

He must have been staring off into space, for when he looked up Clara Oswald was shutting the door behind her. "Hey. Something the matter?" He asked his secretary.

"There's a woman out there asking to see you. Potential client, I think—why do I make these for you when you let them get cold all the time?" She pushed his unfinished cup of tea across the desk, making room so she could sit on the corner.

"Because I pay you so well?"

"I beg to differ on that. Anyway, you haven't got any appointments, so you could see her. Just thought I'd let you know before I sent her in."

"Well, thank you." She smiled and hopped off the desk, making for the door. "Clara?" When she half-turned back he prompted, "Name?"

"Mrs. Williams."

He nodded once. "Send her in."

Clara went into the outer office and he heard her say softly, "You can go in now."

"Thank you," a woman's voice, a bit thick with some kind of emotion and rather heavily accented answered, and then a tall, glamorous redhead walked into his office. She seemed a bit unnaturally pale and her eyes were red and puffy. It didn't escape his notice either that she was dressed mostly in black.

But when she looked at him, something closer to a laugh bubbled past her lips. He took his feet off the desk and sat up straight, more than a little insulted. "What?"

"Sorry, sorry, just- seriously, tea?" She gestured to the half-empty mug. "I thought detectives were all the whiskey or bourbon type."

"Hey, this is the strong stuff," he remarked. "And I don't drink. How am I supposed to get any work done if I can't see straight, eh?" She chuckled again and he cracked a smile. "Now sit down and tell me what's brought you to a private detective of all people."

She did sit, but didn't speak. Instead, her eyes darted around as if taking everything in, openly curious. When they alighted on his nameplate, she read aloud, "'The Doctor, P.I.' Is that so I know I'm in the right place?"

"No, it's in case I forget my own name," he shot back.

She shook her head. "That can't be your real name."

"Real is relative. I've found it's useful in my line of work. Speaking of which, Mrs. Williams—"

She winced. "Pond, please."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got real and fake names, too?"

"No. I mean, Williams is—was—my married name." She bit her lip and looked down for a minute. "Rory's dead."

"Ah," was all he said. The widow wiped at her eyes once before looking back up, a determined glint to them.

"That's what they're telling me, but they didn't find my husband's body. One week and they're giving up. He disappeared after work one night, but there's been no evidence one way or the other."

"Where does he work?" He grabbed up a notepad and pen.

"Hospital. Royal Hope."

"A doctor?" He wore a half-smirk at the coincidence, but she shook her head.

"Nurse." Her mouth became a thin line as if she expected him to make some sort of remark. He usually had no trouble running his mouth, but it was not his habit to rile a widow, even a potential one. Especially if she was about to become a client.

"His phone?"

"Went missing with him."

"Email?"

"Clean. Something from his dad, some spam, nothing unusual."

"And he said nothing to you about going somewhere after work? Nothing strange or unexplained in his behavior?"

"He wouldn't have lied to me," she stated firmly, frowning deeply at him.

"I don't know your Mr. Williams, but I know plenty of husbands who would," was all he said, snapping the notebook shut. He stood, readjusting his braces and grabbing his tweed jacket off the back of the chair. When he'd pulled his arms through the sleeves he turned to see her watching him with an almost amused expression. "What now?"

"You really don't look like a detective."

"Well, forgive me for disappointing you," he huffed, rolling his eyes. A bit self-consciously, he fixed his bowtie under her humored gaze. "Anything else we should discuss?"

"You'll look into it?" She seemed relieved by this, and he realized that meeting with and hiring out a private eye wasn't exactly a situation she was likely familiar with.

"Yes, I'll 'take the case' as it were."

"What do I pay you?"

"I have a going rate which you can talk to Clara about. If she likes you, she'll cut it by half."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "And how do I get her to like me?"

"Oh, tell her you think my chin's ridiculous, that usually works," he replied and she gave another laugh. He prided himself on the fact that she was clearly in better spirits than when she'd arrived. After all, that's why he'd gone into this business; the Doctor, here to help. He moved to the door, opening it. "Now, I've got to get to work on this, but my secretary can give you my details, Ms. Pond."

She stood as well, but paused in the doorway. "Amy."

"Sorry?"

"My name, I'm Amy. Amy Pond."

He glanced at her face, then down, taking her hand. "Right then, Amy Pond. I'll let you know once I've found anything."

"Thank you. Really. I just- I have to know," she told him seriously, and he nodded.

"Clara will take down your contact information. Clara!" He called.

"I can hear you," the brunette remarked five feet away at her desk.

"I'm going out. Ring ahead at the Royal Hope and ask them to pull up any files or video surveillance from Mr. Williams' last shift. Oh, and would it be rude to stop by Kate's without—"

"Yes, it would be, I'll ring her, too," Clara cut over him.

"Right, I'll just leave you two to chat, then?"

"Doctor?"

"Hm?" He stopped halfway out the door and glanced back to see Clara holding something out to him.

"Your keys?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought Bessie wasn't back from the shop."

"She's not, practically totaled," Clara rolled her eyes. "Got you a rental."

He stormed over to her. "Clara, I don't need a rental, I need my car!"

"Too bad, you forgot to renew your oyster card, so it's this or walking."

"What's wrong with walking?" He grumbled under his breath.

"I'd offer you a lift, but Rory's car is still impounded," Amy Pond told him, and then grimaced. "He never let me drive it anyway."

"Men and their cars," Clara scoffed.

"No, it wasn't like that. He just refuses to believe I've gotten better since the Unexpected House Incident." While that certainly sounded intriguing, what caught his attention more was the mix of past and present tenses, like she couldn't decide which was right. He hoped for her sake it would be the latter.

"Ok, ok, I'll give the rental a go," he acquiesced, snatching up the keys.

"You better, went through a lot of trouble to get it. Had to have them drive it over, actually, couldn't seem to get the doors open. They don't think the locks are faulty, though."

"Just what I need, thanks!" he said with false enthusiasm. She whacked him on the chest just as Amy Pond nudged his arm. "Oi! Alight, can see you two will get along just nicely."

With that, he strode from the room and hurried down the steps of the office building from which he rented the two little rooms. Outside by the curb, parked in his usual spot, was not Bessie. It wasn't even a roadster.

It was a sleek little thing in a deep blue, and it seemed to unlock almost before he'd put the key in. The inside was more spacious than he would have guessed at first glance, and he felt a certain thrill once he'd gotten behind the wheel. This wasn't a Bessie. There was only one thing he could call this.

"Hello, Sexy."

Sexy purred to life under his hands, and he was off to begin the investigation.

**Ok, so I had quite a bit of fun with this. Hopefully little jokes/references to the actual series came across. I'm aware that starting another multi-chapter fic is perhaps the last thing I should be doing right now, but sometimes I have to write something new or I can't even get any work done on the older stuff. I promise to get some of those updated within the next week or so, though. But the next chapter for this will likely be up soon as well. I'm excited to hear any feedback you might have, so thanks for reading and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So excited to see positive responses already! This is very much an experiment for me in terms of genre, so it should be a fun time for you and me! Without further ado, enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Two**

"I just can't believe he's dead," said Ranjit, Rory Williams' boss at the hospital. They were walking down one of the many antiseptic scented corridors, heading for the nurses' lockers.

"Yes, well, neither can his wife. That's why I'm here." He briefly flashed his PI license, and the other man blinked.

"Amy thinks there's something funny going on? I heard the police had stopped looking, but nothing about how they found his body."

"They didn't," he answered curtly, pushing open the door and striding down the row of lockers, looking for his client's husband's name.

"So they just decided he was dead?" Ranjit was incredulous. "If they hadn't let you in at the front desk, I would've snuck you in the back! That just isn't right, Rory deserves better."

"I'm glad you think so." He spotted the name at last. "Key?" The man handed him a key ring, with one of them singled out from the rest. He took care to grab that one, and then turned it in the lock.

Rory Williams was a tidy man, from the looks of his locker. A couple pairs of scrubs sat in the locker, neatly folded; a clipboard with some notes about various patients and their care was laid on top; on the inside of the locker door a single magnet held up a picture of the man in question—so he assumed—with his arms wrapped around a much happier Amy Pond—or Williams, he still hadn't quite worked out which was really her name. Mr. Williams had short, fair hair and a disproportionately large nose. Something to keep in mind, then.

Unfortunately, none of this gave any hints as to his whereabouts, alive or dead. He shut the locker and turned back to Ranjit. "How would you describe his behavior of late? Anything unusual?"

The other man shook his head after a moment. "No, I wouldn't say so. Same old Rory, really. We had a patient in a couple nights before that was pretty badly hurt—still unconscious—so he was a bit worried about that, but nothing out of the ordinary."

"You say the patient was hurt. Not an accident?" He surmised, and Ranjit looked surprised he'd been able to guess. "Any connection between the two of them?"

"No, don't think so. At least Rory didn't say to me."

"I don't suppose you'd give me the patient's information?" When Ranjit shook his head with a grimace, he knew the answer. "And I'm guessing the police already have the CCTV footage."

"Yeah, I can't release it to you. Sorry, I wish I could help Amy more."

"Well, you've helped me as much as you could. Thank you, Ranjit."

"You're welcome, er—"

"The Doctor," he supplied, on the way out of the locker room.

Ranjit pulled a face. "Bit of an odd name to use while poking around a hospital, mate."

"I don't have the luxury of picking cases that suit my name," was all he said in reply. He then handed over his card. "Do give the number on there a call if you remember anything pertaining to Mr. Williams' disappearance."

"Sure." Ranjit showed him out of the hospital, and he made his way through the car park to where he'd left the beautiful rental. Now that the preliminary work had been done, it was time to drop by to visit his favorite DI.

OoO

"I was wondering when you'd be in," Kate Stewart remarked as he threw the door open without knocking. "Clara called."

"I know," he said. "Just getting some basic facts straight before I came in." She nodded to the chair in front of her desk and he dropped into it. "Now then, the Williams Case."

"Hm," she flipped open a file for a moment, scanned it, and then said, "Male nurse, missing for a week, no body, case closed." She looked up. "What about it?"

"Why'd you close it?" He fixed her with a stern gaze, but she shook her head.

"It's no use scolding me; that decision came from higher authority. The DCS herself."

He sat up straighter at this pronouncement. "Oh really? Who is the DCS these days, maybe we ought to have a chat. Honestly, you people haven't been able to keep someone in that position since—"

"Since you gave Harriet Jones that nervous breakdown," she reminded, and he had the grace to avoid her gaze for a moment. "You've never been able to get within ten feet of that office after that."

"Well, not like I'd want to anyway," he muttered, digging at her carpet with the toe of one boot.

"So what has you so intrigued by the Williams Case? I'll admit, I'd like to look into it more myself, but as it is my hands are tied."

"Ah, but mine are not! I've been hired by his would-be widow, I'm sure you talked to her."

She nodded, obviously recalling the redhead. "Briefly, yes. Seems a nice woman, felt sorry for her."

"Yes, well she was quick to drop the married name," he confided in her, and Kate raised an eyebrow.

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"Probably not, although I'd love to take a look at any CCTV footage you collected from around the hospital the night he disappeared." The hopeful look on his face dropped at her shaking head.

"It's been confiscated, closed case. It's more than a little odd, I'll give you that," she acknowledged.

"Yes, why the hasty dropping of the case? Surely the DCS doesn't feel you've got too many, or that it would be a waste of resources to spend a little more time. What is it about a missing nurse that has everything so hush-hush?"

Kate shrugged. "I did look at the footage myself, and all I can tell you is that Rory Williams left the hospital, walked toward the car park, and disappeared while he was in a blind spot for the cameras."

"So somebody knew just where to wait for him and attack," he made the leap and she nodded.

"If he has been attacked, that is. There was no blood or any other evidence, so it likely wasn't a simple mugging. More likely, if it was sinister, an abduction. But with no ransom notice, it's hard to believe he's still alive."

They were grim words and he had no answers, so he changed the subject. "His car?"

"Clean, no suspicious items or fingerprints. No sign of a break-in. He simply didn't make it to his vehicle. And it's been impounded."

"So the wife told me. Speaking of which, does she have an alibi?"

"Isn't she your client?" She asked wryly, but at his pointed look she held up a hand. "I understand; better to prove her innocent now than to find her guilty later. She was at a photo-shoot late, several witnesses."

"A model?" He guessed in interest. It wasn't too surprising considering the redhead's rather pleasing appearance, but still something to note.

"Fairly successful, too. Has a line of perfume out, some nature word about rain—" A sharp rap sounded on the door and they both turned to look. "Come in!"

DS Owens opened the door and leaned in. "We got a call from someone saying they've got—" the man's eyes landed on him in the chair. "Oh, you're here. That's weird."

"Hi, Craig," he decided to state politely all the same.

"But I meant good-weird. I mean, not that you're normally bad-weird, but—"

"Owens," Kate interrupted before Craig could stammer away too much. "The call?"

"Right. Said they had information on the Williams Case, and that they'd only speak to him," the man pointed at him, causing Kate to arch an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He's to meet them. But it's at Maldovar's place."

"Dorium Maldovar's?" Kate repeated. "That's out of our jurisdiction."

"Interesting," he commented, a hand to his chin.

"I don't like it," she said. "Whoever they were could've easily called your mobile or your office. Either they're taunting us or trying to scare you; showing they can predict your movements."

"Oh I am unpredictable, Kate," he countered. "Still, this is certainly the only lead I've got, so I'd have to follow it either way. Did they say anything else, Craig?"

The man shifted a bit uncomfortably. "No. I mean, it was just stupid anyway, but they—never mind, forget it."

"DS Owens," Kate reprimanded calmly, "Nothing pertaining to a case is stupid. What else did they say?"

Craig shifted one more time and looked at the floor as he answered, "To give him a kiss."

He drew a breath in and released it, standing up and fixing his bowtie. "Well, let's have it, Craig."

The other man looked up in shock. "What? You're not serious!"

"No, but it was a good one, eh? Now then, I'd best drive over to Maldovar's bar if I want to meet this person."

"I still don't like it," Kate remarked.

"Yes, but as you so wisely pointed out, it's out of your jurisdiction and part of a case your boss on high has closed. Still, I suppose Craig could follow me in a car to the edge of your little sphere of authority."

"I've got loads of paperwork piling up," Craig jerked a thumb in the general vicinity of his desk.

But Kate cut across with a smile, "What an unusually responsible suggestion, Doctor. I'm sure the DS can make time to do just that."

Craig sighed in defeat. "Yes, ma'am." The man left, presumably to grab his keys.

He made to follow after, but Kate's voice stopped him. "Try and be careful. There's nothing I can do if you get into trouble out there."

He looked back at her over his shoulder. "Oh come now, you know that won't do anything."

"Yes, but now I can say to myself that I tried," she replied, and he laughed.

"Keep up the good work, Kate," he said, and exited the office. Craig was waiting for him at the front entrance. "Don't look so glum, Craig, you're not the one going to meet a mysterious someone in a questionable establishment. Speaking of which, anyone in particular I'm to ask for when I get there?"

"They gave a name," the other man told him as they walked out into the sunlight. "We ran it through, but didn't find any plausible matches, so it's probably an alias."

"Can't have enough of those, it seems," he commented. They'd reached his rental now, which clearly impressed Craig, and he opened the door but didn't get in. "What's this one?"

Craig had continued on to the police car he drove and turned before sliding in to answer, "Melody Malone."

**So the Doctor's going to meet with a certain someone. Naturally you all know who, but that's for next chapter. I hope I've raised some questions and incorporated some favorite characters for you all to enjoy. Thanks so much for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Right, so, getting to work on this. Not much else to say, except thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites so far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Three**

The place had a shine to it, like a fancy veneer that was peeling at the edges. When he looked closely he could still see the same things that were at any other bar. Dorium Maldovar just appeared to have clients who liked to pretend they could afford something better. The man working behind the counter pointed him to an appropriately shady corner, where a figure in a curve-hugging dress sat with their head down, a drink half-finished on the table and a cup of tea waiting at the spot reserved for him.

The shadows made no difference, though; there was no hiding that head of hair.

He sauntered over, taking his time as he felt her eyes watch his every move under the brim of her hat. It seemed right to announce his presence all the same. "'Melody Malone'. I should have known." He dropped into the booth with ease, raised the teacup in a sort of salute. "Hello, River Song."

She lifted her face at last as she removed the hat, still the same mischievous eyes and full lips. "Hello, Sweetie." When he placed the cup down without drinking, she noted, "That's going to go cold, and to think I ordered it just for you."

"Then I'll let whatever you've put in it go cold, too."

"You don't trust me?"

"Should I?" He countered. She laughed and didn't answer.

Instead, she put forth a question of her own. "You didn't bring your partner with you?"

He didn't bother to parry back, opting to let her see his scowl. "You know Donna doesn't work with me anymore."

"Yes, pity that, I quite liked her. Still, there's always little Miss Clara, isn't there?"

"I had been told, you know, that I was to be hearing some rather pertinent information about a case," he remarked rather impatiently. "Seems to me all we're making is small talk."

She simply smirked at his irritation. "And don't you want to hear what I've been up to?"

"Something tells me I won't be hearing it. Not unless it's in a police report."

She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at his retort. "I do some professional work as well, you realize."

"Yes; how you got a Ph.D., I'll never know." He sat up straight and folded his hands on the table in front of her. "River, the Williams Case."

She sighed. "Always the work, isn't it?"

"You called me," he pointed out.

"Only way I'll get a date out of you."

"Is that what happened to Williams?" He decided to just plow ahead. She was likely to make him work for the information anyway. "Was he meeting someone—you, maybe—for a date?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, as if I'd date a nurse. Married one at that."

"Yes, and his wife is paying me to find out what happened to him, so if you have information I'd appreciate it _now_," he stressed.

Her eyes flashed. "Oh, I have information, but not about Rory Williams. Tell me, Doctor," she leaned forward, and he found himself doing the same. "What do you know of the Silence?"

He hoped his expression didn't seem too blank. "I'm assuming you're not just talking about the word." When a hint of a smirk came to her face as she shook her head, he said, "Alright, then, educate me. Who's the Silence?"

"Not who," she corrected with a wagging finger, "what. They're an organization, ruthless—"

"A gang, then?"

"Not just any gang." Her tone was deadly serious. "This goes deeper than you could ever know."

"Then how do you know about it?"

"I have my sources," she shrugged lightly, not trying to hide the deflection. "But that's what's become of your missing nurse."

"What, he was part of them or ran afoul?"

She shook her head sadly. "Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, doing something they didn't like."

"And what was that?" He prompted, hoping she wasn't going to keep being so cryptic.

"His job."

Well, that was concrete enough. "His work at the hospital? Why would they single out him out of all the other nurses?"

"Like I said, bad timing for him. Just bad luck."

"Hang on, you said 'missing'," he realized, and her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. "He's still alive? River, where is he?"

She was shaking her head before he even finished the question. "I don't know."

"Then find out!"

"Because it's that easy, is it?" She shot back heatedly. "You wouldn't even know this much without my help!"

He reached for her hand across the table. "Then help me, River, please. For him and his wife's sake, if nothing else." He was starting to hate the shaking motion of her head, even as it tossed her curls back and forth in a teasing sort of way, daring him to reach out and touch one. "Why not?"

"I didn't ask you here to help you with the case," she said simply, "I asked you here to warn you."

"Why?"

"Because they don't know you've taken it yet, but they will soon. And that puts you in their sights." She had a fearful light to her eyes now.

He did his best to scoff. "You act like that's new for me."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Like I said, this goes deep. Don't go digging for it, Doctor, or you just might fall in too far."

He squeezed her hand briefly and let it drop to the table. "Come on, River, you know that's like waving a red flag in front of the bull. And anyway, I've already taken the case so I've simply got to take the risks that come with it."

She managed a laugh that was more shaky than anything. "Of course, why do I try?"

"Yes, why do you?" He wondered aloud.

Her smirk was back as she smoothly replied, "How else is a girl to have fun in this town? Have you _seen_ the other PIs? And don't get me started on the coppers."

He leaned back in the booth. "The uniforms don't do it for you, then?"

"Oh, I think you know what does it for me." He stood abruptly and adjusted his bowtie, causing her to laugh. "Speaking of which, not a word to your friend DI Stewart. The walls in those offices have ears, you know."

"Right," he said, fully composed. "Well, whatever your intentions, thank you for the information."

Her lips formed a pout. "A thank you? You really know how to treat a girl, don't you?"

"Sorry?"

"Here I buy you a drink, and not even an offer to head back to your place," she sighed at the supposedly obvious oversight, while he turned flushed a red that probably matched his bowtie.

"Pretty sure you head back to the buyer's place, actually," he muttered before he could think through the consequences.

Her eyes lit up. "If that's how you feel, I'm sure I could find us something."

"No, River, it's back to the office—"

"Ooh, that could be fun."

"—_for me_," he emphasized. "I've got a lot of work to do on this."

"Oh, alright," she huffed, clearly thinking him to be a spoilsport of the worst kind. When he reached into his wallet and, grumbling, produced a couple of crumpled bills to compensate, she at least lost the disappointed frown. Instead, she plucked them up between manicured nails, smoothed the wrinkles in the paper, and then smoothly tucked away the money. Down the front of her dress.

He would deny staring to any and all witnesses, even under the glare of Kate's interrogation lamp.

She laughed as he unnecessarily straightened his collar again and walked away. "Don't let this case keep you up too late." That woman; she knew perfectly well what he'd be losing sleep over thinking about tonight.

OoO

Craig hadn't bothered to wait at the edge of his boss' jurisdiction, and so he drove straight back to the office.

"Busy day?" Clara asked as he came through the door.

"You could say that," he acknowledged, about to go on and describe the unusual meeting with River. But her warning about danger gave him pause. He was fairly certain any conversation in his office was private, and he was absolutely certain Clara could be trusted, but did he want to take the chance with her?

"You still in there?" Her voice filtered through at last, and he shook his head to clear it.

"Course." It was then that he registered she had her coat on. "What time is it? Is it really that late? Sorry about that—"

"Don't apologize, you're the one running around the city," she shrugged. "Need to talk it over?" She knew his pacing tirades all too well, as he puzzled things out aloud. Oftentimes it had been a keen observation from her that provided the breakthrough.

"No, no, you best go home." No need to include her just yet when he wasn't sure what he'd be including her in. He turned to head into the inner office. "Oh, and lock the door on your way out."

She sighed. "I'll be back in the morning with breakfast."

"No, no, take the morning off, it's late!" He protested, embarrassed enough. After all, they both knew he couldn't pay her for the extra time.

She just smiled at him in the doorway. "Just try and keep me away, Chin Boy. Goodnight." And she was out the door.

He stood there for a moment, then shook his head. When Clara was determined, she had to have her way. Lucky for him that she was determined to take care of him.

But now, he had a job to do taking care of the Williams Case. He sat heavily in his desk chair, propping his feet once more on the desk. This Silence River spoke of sounded ominous enough, and her sources were usually reliable. But how had she found a source in such a 'ruthless organization', as she had called it? Something like that required an in of some kind.

Just how was River Song involved with the Silence? That was certainly something to think about. The woman wasn't always on the right side of the law in her dealings, and she pretended to be so even less than he did most of the time. Still, it would be foolish to completely disregard her advice.

But supposedly, Rory Williams was still alive. He'd been taken, then, somewhere because the Silence hadn't liked what he was doing. He would need to go back to the hospital, then. He was really hoping this wasn't going to turn into some circle-round-the-tail case.

What was he kidding himself for? They always were.

**So there's River for you, I know people were excited to see her. As always, she and the Doctor clearly have some history. But the Silence! Just what form will they take in this AU? More on that to come. And there may be hope for Rory yet; the man will never die. I hope this installment was interesting to you all, thanks for reading and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, so I actually started this the day before the 50****th****, got kind of swept up in that, had some final papers to write, and somehow lost track of this. So hopefully you can forgive my negligence and enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Four**

He bumped into Clara as he exited the office that morning, sending a couple pages he was holding in his hands to the floor. She'd managed to maintain her grip on what looked like coffee and a bagel.

"Where you off to? This is for you," she shook the bagel bag, then crouched down to watch him collect the papers off the floor.

"The hospital. Again. Something happened there, I just need to find out what." As he stood up, her eyes flicked across the top page.

"That's a list of names," she pointed out.

"Yes, I know, it's a list of names. All the patients Rory Williams had notes on in his locker—least the ones I could remember."

"So all of them, then."

He gave her a grin. "Naturally."

Even with both hands full she managed to convey an air of mild disapproval as she lightly chastised, "I think that's breaking doctor-patient confidentiality, don't you?"

"Ah, but Clara," he tapped her nose and then edged around her in the hallway so he was now closer to the stairs. "Which Doctor?"

She actually groaned aloud at his words. "Just for that, Chin Boy, I'm keeping these." The coffee and bagel were drawn in closer towards her to demonstrate the point.

He waved her off. "You do that. Can't get crumbs in the car anyway, might mess up the controls."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just a rental." But he was already thundering down the steps and out the door to the little blue beauty. After all, if Rory Williams was still alive, then the clock was ticking. He needed more information from that hospital.

OoO

Ranjit shook his head at the nurse's station. "I'm sorry, Doctor. But I already told you, I can't disclose that information."

He passed a hand through his hair in agitation. "I wouldn't ask, believe me, but it's very important to the case." He couldn't tell the man that it might help him find the missing nurse; after all, he had no conclusive proof that he wasn't dead, just River's word. Then again, the police had no conclusive proof he _was_ dead. Still, he had to err on the side of caution.

"I don't have the authority to overturn policy. And the people who do wouldn't want to; they'd be worried about a scandal at the hospital. If the police have said the case is closed, they're happy to keep it that way." It was clear the man wasn't happy about it.

He sighed. "Alright, alright. Thanks anyway." Frustrated, he trudged away from the nurse's station and back to the lobby. Perhaps this had been a waste of time. Now the only lead he had was this mysterious Silence, although he had no idea how to follow up on it.

But as he passed the front desk, a distinct Scottish voice made him pause. "Hi. Um, I'm here to visit Jeff Angelo?"

Jeff Angelo. He quickly pulled that list out of his pocket and saw that, yes, his name was on it. It was the last name, actually. And that voice belonged to Amy Pond.

Turning, he saw her standing at the desk, shifting from foot to foot as if a bit uncertain about being there. She was still in dark colors, but blues rather than the standard mourning black. The receptionist was looking at something on the computer.

"You know he hasn't woken up yet?"

"That's fine," the redhead answered quickly. "I just had a card. Thought I'd stop by."

"Let me just see if the nurses on duty are accepting non-relative visitors. If you could wait a moment?" The receptionist turned to the phone, and Amy Pond nodded as she took a few steps back.

He took that opportunity to draw up beside her. "So," he started, causing her to jump and whirl to face him in surprise. "Jeff Angelo."

"Oh! Um, hi. Didn't expect to see you," she greeted, seeming more than a little thrown by his presence. "Is there something here you're investigating? For Rory, I mean?"

He shrugged casually. "I don't know, you tell me. Who's Jeff Angelo?"

Her eyes widened briefly at the question before she suddenly laughed. "No, it's really not what it looks like. Jeff just grew up with Rory and me, we all lived in this village called Leadworth together. We all moved out, as you can see, and I hadn't heard anything about Jeff in years. Then Rory said last week that he'd been admitted to the hospital, pretty badly hurt. I've been meaning to visit, thought it'd be nice."

Ok, so not necessarily a story of scandal, though it was a bit early still to rule it out entirely. "Do you know how he was injured, anything specific?"

She grimaced. "Rory didn't usually share that kind of stuff, mostly cause I wouldn't have understood the medical bits anyway. But he did say he thought Jeff must have been in trouble."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He said it didn't look like an accident," she clarified quietly as the receptionist hung up the phone and looked their way.

"Alright, Miss, if you could just—who are you?" She looked at him with some suspicion, seeing as he hadn't been there when Amy had made her request.

Before the redhead could say anything, however, he winked at her and then stated, "Dr. John Smith, friend of Amy and Jeff's." He produced the card with his credentials—one of his cards anyway, he had one for just about every occasion. Clara had once remarked he could fool the Queen of England into thinking he was a distant nephew if he wanted. "I let her out at the front and was just parking the car."

Amy Pond seemed to know when not to ask questions, for she quickly nodded. "Yeah, sorry, forgot to say there were two of us. Is that a problem?"

The receptionist sighed. "No, just need you both to sign in. He's in the third floor, room twenty-three." She handed a clipboard to them which they each signed. Together, the two of them headed to the lifts.

When the lift door had shut, leaving them alone, Amy turned to him, "Alright, why do you need to come see Jeff?"

"Not sure yet, just a hunch really," he replied. "But the last thing your husband was doing was working and the last patient he was attending to was Jeff. If Jeff's injuries weren't an accident, then maybe Rory found out something about it and that's why he's gone missing." He didn't tell her River's words about how he'd been attacked for doing his job, whatever that meant.

The lift dinged and the doors opened, and together they stepped into the corridor, following the signs to room twenty-three. The room was like most other hospital rooms, small with a couple of chairs and the bed, where the man called Jeff Angelo rested. He looked tall and rather broad-shouldered, but that clearly hadn't helped him; Rory had been right to think the injuries were deliberate.

The unconscious man's face was rather pale under many bruises, and one of his arms was bandaged and tucked close to his chest. Everything else was hidden by the covers, but he suspected that it was likely more of the same. A heart monitor told of a slow, steady beat.

"Wow," Amy said softly. "It's weird, seeing him like this." She reached out to touch the hand, but drew back after barely brushing it, instead busying herself by placing the card she'd brought on the bedside table. "I'm sure Rory was taking good care of him, though."

He'd reached in the meantime for the clipboard at the foot of the man's bed. It had some notes scribbled on it in the same familiar handwriting he remembered from the nurse's papers in the locker. Had Rory really been the last person to write something down?

A soft whirring noise momentarily distracted him from his thoughts, but he was able to regain them when the heartbeat resumed. _Resumed_?

Amy started forward again. "He must be cold, I mean he felt pretty cold—" She'd moved forward to draw the blankets up higher, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. "What?"

"Don't touch him," he cautioned softly, then moved forward himself. Taking an edge of one of the blankets to act as a rudimentary glove, he nudged the arm aside. He then carefully removed the electrodes attached to the man's chest. The heart monitor continued uninterrupted.

"What?" Amy gasped in shock, taking an involuntary step backward.

"It's a recording," he surmised, "set up to just keep replaying over and over. Amy, hit the call button." When he looked back at her she was still staring in almost horror at the body. "Amy," he tried more gently, and her eyes darted to his. "Please." She nodded once and then moved to do as asked while he stepped back from Jeff Angelo.

Fortunately they were only left alone a few minutes, as he truly had no idea what to say to her. He hadn't quite made up his mind what he even thought about it.

Funny enough, it was Ranjit who entered the room. "Can I help—Doctor, what are you doing here? And Amy!" He added in some surprise. She gave an awkward wave and ducked her head.

"Hello again, Ranjit," he greeted pleasantly enough. "I thought I should just inform you that one of your hospital's patients is—and possibly has been for some time—dead. Terribly sorry, know you were trying to avoid a scandal."

Ranjit gripped the doorframe and looked past him to the lifeless body of Jeff Angelo with alarm. Amy was avoiding looking at the body at all costs. And he had a feeling they were going to be here for some time.

**So Jeff got to be in the story! And then I killed him. Sorry Jeff. But what does this mean for the hospital, and more importantly, Rory? More to come in the next chapter, so thanks for following along so far, and please review!**


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